^ t .£542 

f Copy ^ 



al Copyrighted (in England, her C\)lonics, and 
Edition of the Works of the Best Authors 



No. 290. 



OOR OLD JIM" 



A SKETCH 



lln ©ne Bet 



BY 



WILLIAM C. DE MILLE 



C<)PYHI<;ilT, 1914. liY WlULlA.M < '. DK MlLI.K 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION.-Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that 
" POOR OLD JIM " being fully protected under the copyright laws j 
of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any ono presenting 
the play without the consent of the author or his authorized agent 
will be liable to the penalties by law provided. All applications for 
amateur performances of "POOR OLD JIM" must be made to 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City. 



PRICE 25 CENTS 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 \VEST 38th STREET 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



HER LORD AND MASTER. 

A Comedy in Three Acts, by Martha Morton. Six males, five females. 
Costumes modern. One interior and one exterior scene. Plays a full 
evening. 

Miss Morton has furnished the slatre with some very entertainintr 
comedies, and this is one of her best. The plot concerns the marriage 
of an American girl to an English Viscount. In the original produc- 
tion Miss Effle Shannon played the girl and Mr. Herbert Kelcey played 
the Viscount. Price, 50 cents. 

A BACHELOR'S ROMANCE. 

A Comedy in Four Acts, by Martha Morton. Seven males, four 
females. Costumes modern. Three interior scenes. Plays a full 
evening. 

This is the celebrated comedy produced by Mr. Sol Smith Russell for 
so many years with great success. Mr. Russell played the part of David 
Holmes, a quaint, odd character. He Is a bachelor, country editor and 
literary critic, so absorbed in his work that the outside world has little 
interest for him. In fact, he has even overlooked the circumstance 
that his ward, Sylvia, wlio lives with a maiden aunt, has outgrown 
childhood, and he still sends her dolls and other toys as presents. 

When, however, this oversight is made clear to him by the arrival of 
the young woman herself a change comes over his life. The critical 
sanctum grows too narrow for him and his Interest in her leads him out 
Into the world. And now the man who has lived in a world of the mind 
learns that there is a world of the heart, for he comes to regard his 
charming ward with feelings more tender than those of fatherly inter- 
est. But his seTise of honor forbids him to disclose these. Nor does he 
Imagine for a moment that she, charming girl, could become interested 
in him. a cru.sty old bachelor. At last, however, an attempt on his 
part to arrange a suitable marriage for her leads to the disclosure that 
she loves him. Miss Annie Russell played Sylvia in the original New 
Yorli production, l^rice, .50 cents. 



NIOBE. 



A V^antastlc Comedy in Three Acts. Fivo males, seven females. The 
comedy l)y Harry and Edward Paulton is peculiarly suited to ihe use 
of schools and colleges, containing as it does much humor, only fully 
appreciated by those in the course of their classical studies. The play 
bristles with allusions mythological and historical, which only serve to 
set off the excessive modernity of the work as a whole. 

The story concerns itself with the revivification of the statue of NioV)e. 
who was turned into stone by Phoebus and Artemis, who wearied of her 
incessant tears for her lost children. The statue is in the keeping of 
Peter Anu)s Dunn, an Insurance broker, and comes to life while his 
family are at the theatre seeing Pygmalion and Galatea. 

Hopeless of convincing his wife of the truth of the story of the statue's 
animation, he introduces Niobe as the new governess they are expect- 
ing and the situation thus setup is the beginning of many perplexities 
and endless laughter. Niobe is what is known as a sure-fire laugh pro- 
ducer and contains many good almost self-acting parts — that of Niobe 
being especially effective with its combination of qneenly majesty and 
uaivet6 in the midst of her modern surroundings. Price, 50 cents. 

THE SUPERIOR MISS PELLENDER. 

An original comedy in three acts, by Sidney Bowkett. 2 males, i 
females. Costumes modern. 1 exterior, 1 interior scene. Time, 2 
hours. 

A gentle, amiable widow-mother is INIrs. Pellender. Each member of 
her family is strongly characteristic. Edith, a malade imaginairt'; 
Nancy, a tom-boy; Noel, a mischievous youth; and the superior Mi>s 
Pellender, as crisp as a biscuit, sharp as a knife, and the terror of file 
family. The mother falls in love with a diffident gentleman named 
Tlster. but to break the news to her unsparing child she feels the great- 
est reluctance. She and her fiance are quite unable to muster sufficient 
courage to "confess," and, in ultimate desperation, they elope, leaving 
a note behind explaining. 

This is a clever, high-class comedy, particularly suited to production 
V).\' girls' schools and colleges, and it should prove a great success wher- 
ever produced. It was originally produced at The Playhouse, London, 
Avilh .Mr. Cyril Maude in the role of Mi-. Tister. Price, 30 cents. 



These plays are subject to royalty when produced. 
(>nr 124 Page Catalogue Seiit Free on A|)ijli('ation. 



44 



POOR OLD JIM 



^J 



A SKETCH 



fn (^ne Bet 



BY 

WILLIAM C. DE MILLE 



Copyright, 1914, By William C. dk Mille 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



CAUTION.— AiTiiiteurs and Professionals are hereby warned that 
" POOR OLD JIN " being fully protected under the copyright laws 
of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any ono presenting 
the play v^ithout the consent of the author or his authorized agent 
will be liable to the penalties by law provided. All applications for 
amateur performances of "POOR OLD JIM" must be made to 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City. 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd., 
26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






*'POOR OLD JIM" 

CHARACTERS. 

Jtm 

Makie His wife 

Paul The Doctor 

Sci:.\i; : — Sl/liiK/ room in ]i.\r's lioiise — New York 
City. 

T I :vr E : — Th <• Fre.'icui. 

HAND PROPS. 

Telegraph pad. 

Pitelu'i' of water and li'lass. 

Medicine bau'. 

Even in. 2: coat. 

A'est. 

Hat. 

Shoes. 



©CI.D nSSV,i 



"POOR OLD JIM" 



Scene: — Sitting room in Jim's house. A comfortable 
icell furnished room. Door up c. Door l. 1st. 
Set on Jog at an angle. Table and 2 chairs R. 
Large clock up l. Other furniture to dress 
stage as desired. Telegraph pad on table — Jar 
paste in table drawer — Pitcher of water and 
glass on table. 

AT RISE: — The room is in disorder; hands of clock 
point to 6.55. Shades are down, electric lights 
on full. Jim is lying asleep in a fantastic attitude 
on the couch. He is dressed in evening trousers, 
shirt, collar and tie. His coat has been thrown 
on a chair. His vest on another. Shoes on the 
table, and hat on the floor. Jim's head is where 
his feet ought to be, and he tosses uneasily mut- 
tering from time to time. As the curtain goes up 
he murmurs, " S'all right oV pal — This is on 
me — Wha'c a club for if a man cant treat 
his frien's." Marie enters c. dressed in a pretty 
negligee. Sho looks at Jim — makes a gesture of 
" what's the use " and pulls up the shade. It is 
broad daylight outside — She crosses to Jim and 
shakes him by the shoulder. 

Marie. Jim ! Jim ! ! You're drunk again after 
your promises to me. 

Jim. Who are you? , 

Marie. Don't you know me Jim? 



4 POOR OLD JIM. 

t 

Jim. Never saw you before in my life — (still half 
asleep) I'm a married man. Go way. Don' allow 
women in club. 

Marie, (in hack of couch) Jim — come — wake up. 
I've sent for the Doctor 

Jim. (singing in his sleep and waving his leg in 
the air) With a stein on the table — an' a good 
so-ong 

Marie. Jim — put your leg down. (she tries to 
hold his leg quiet — he gets it loose and waves it again) 

Jim. Wha's the matter? Good ol' leg — leggo 

(Paul enters c. carrying his medicine case — He is 
a big, good natured chap.) 

Paul. Hello, what's all this? 

Marie. (coming down to edge of couch) 0\\, 
Doctor, see what I married ! 

Paul. (examining Jim) H'm — another evening 
at the club, eh? (crossing r. c. to table, he puts 
powder from medicine case in glass, and adds water 
through the next few speeches) 

Marie. Yes — this is what he calls staying on the 
Water Wagon. 

Paul. The road through the club is pretty rough 
for water wagons. Too bad that Jim loves the club 
so — Can't you get him to resign? 

Marie, (crossing c.) Oh, I've tried! I've tried! 
He's such a line fellow when he's himself Doctor; 
and it's only at the club he gets like this. But I can't 
stand it much longer, (bus. Paul trying to interrupt) 
If he loves the club better than he does me — he'll have 
to choose between us, that's all. (cross: : dowi: l. c.) 

Paul, (coming to her) Now, now, don't let's get 
excited. Here, give him this medicine while I hold his 
head — It'll bring him round 

(Marie takes glass from Doctor and crosses in front 
of couch. Doctor in back of couch. They raise 



POOR OLD JIM. S 

him to a sitting position and make him drink the 
medicine the Doctor has prepared.) 

Ttiwt (ns they raise him up) No— no more— I'm 
on ^e JkllZ'n^l ^roJsei m' .ife not another 

drink to-night 

Marie. Did you hear that? 

fZ Well/you see, he remembers his promise- 
(Mar^e «if »-Paul takes glass from her and speaks 
tn Tim") Come on, just one more. 

JM. No- C;n'tbedone- When a man make 
nromise to his wife, promise's sacred— (6u«. fttc 
Z^l^ Don't tempt me-f break sacred work of 
honor, gave to dear li'l woman 

MabI Well, upon my word! (-^^'.^.^^onc 
Paul It's all right old man— J ust one little one. 
Here take it-(p«<» gla^^Jo hts bps) 

J,M. 'F course, 'f you force me-can t help it, can 
V (chuckles) 'S good idea- Get good drink and 
Lp^sacTed wlrd 'f honor too-(MAH.^.«. » ^ 
L. of table-Jm drinks the med^cme) Huh 1 knew 
I'd had enough-it doesn't taste the same tall. Guess 
I'll take li'l nap. (he lies dozen again) 

pit He'll be all right in a minute now. (crosses 

'"aiLe. Doctor, there must be some way we can 
preven this- If it goes on he'll lose his position 
ind his health- Oh, you'd think he d be careful 
when it means so much to me! 

Paul, (af table with Marie) Yes-I told him 
last time that a few more sprees like this would kill 
him-but it didn't seem to frighten him. ^\ e vc got 
to make him believe it, that's all ! 

Marie, (turnhiq to P^vh) But how? 

Paul, {walking up and down) That's the ques- 

*'""uE^r' He won't believe you until he's drunk him- 
self to death— and then it will be too late 
Paul. By Jove that's an idea 



6 POOR OLD JIM. 

Marie. What? 

Paul. He's drunk himself to death — (crossing 
round l. of table) 

Marie, (rising and starting for Jim) Oh^ Doctor! 

Paul, (stopping her) No — no — not yet! 

Marie. Then what 

Paul. (thinking) Don't you remember tellmg 
me about that play you and Jim saw together 

Marie. Play 

Paul. The one that made such an impression on 
him — You know — where the man dies and his ghost 
comes back and no one can see or hear him ! 

Marie. I remember^ but what's that got to do 
with ■ 

Paul. Does Jim still think about it? 

MARife. Yes, we were speaking of it yesterday. 

Paul. Good ! Then we can do it 

Marie. Do what? 

Paul. We've got to make him think he's dead; 
that he's drunk himself to death. That'll give him a 
scare he'll remember. 

Marie. But how on earth 

Paul. All you've got to do is to follow my lead 
and do as I sa3^ Nov let's see — He died this morn- 
ing and his dead body is in the study there — (point- 
ing to door L. 1) I'll lock the door — (Paul starts 
l. — Marie coming down toward him to stop him) 

Marie. No 

Paul. Now you put the room to rights — (Paul 
locks door and pockets key) Hurry up, he'll wake in 
a minute — (he sees telegraph blanks on table) Hello, 
these telegraph blanks will help ! Sit down and write 
a telegram. Say 

Marie, (crossing r. and sitting at table) Doctor 
I don't like to do this — It seems so cruel 

Paul. (l. of Marie) My dear girl — it's the only 
way to save liim — You must have the nerve to carry 
it through. Come, brace up — after all it's for him — 



POOR OLD JIM. 7 

Marie. (taking pencil from table) All right, 
what shall I say? 

Paul, (down c.) Address it to your Mother — 
(Marie writes) Say — " Come at once, Jim passed 
away this morning." (looking at Jim) And that's 
no lie 

Marie. But it will frighten Mother so 

Paul. She'll never see it — Where's the paste? 
(coming to back of table) 

]Marie. (taking paste out of draiver in table) 
Here 

Paul. Good — Now write another just like it 

Marie. Another! 

Paul. Yes — hurry up — (Paul takes message and 
pastes it to top of table) 

Marie. What are you doing? 

Paul. (while pasting it) Pasting this to the 
blotter— Ghosts can't pick things wp — When he 
reads this he'll know he's dead. Turn the clock back 
two hours — (she does so) Now remember, what- 
ever happens you must pretend not to see or liear him, 
he's a ghost. 

]Marie. But when he finds out we've been fooling 
Iiim- 

Paul. He won't find out — Leave it to me — (Jim 
groans and mutters. Bus. gesture from Marie start- 
ing to speak — Paul whispers) I'll tell j^ou the rest 
outside — He's waking 

(They take all the clothes, medicine case, pitcher, 
glasses, etc., and exit c. Jim slowly wakes up — 
business, stretching, dark brown taste, etc. He 
sits up on couch, looks at clock — Feels for 
watch, bus. running hand down trouser leg. Sees 
he has no vest or coat — misses his clothes — 
Starts to look for them — cannot think what he 
has done xcith them. Hears Marie coming and 
retires up stage as Marie enters with black hat 
trimmed with flowers, and some black ribbon in 



8 POOR OLD JIM. 

her hand. Jim sai^s — " Hello " hut Marie 
pretends not to see or hear hivi. She sits r. of 
table and bee/ins to untrim hat. Jim nerves him- 
self up and comes doicn to her — Through the 
next scene neither Marie nor Paul seem to see 
or hear him.) 

Jim. (apologetically, trying to smile genially) 
Marie — my dear- — I'm afraid I was out rather late 
and I thought I wouldn't disturb you, so I took a nap 
on the sofa. (Marie uses her handkerchief to wipe 
away an imaginary tear) No, no, you're wrong-. It 
wasn't that way at all. (Marie looks through him 
with a mournful expression) You mean what did I do 
with my clothes.^ (Marie returns to fixing hat) Well, 
that's rather a long story — but I suppose I'll have 
to confess. You know what a tender heart I have and 
as I was coming home from the club — it was about 
three O' — minutes past twelve, and a poor fellow 
stopped me on the street. Oh, it was pitiful, Marie. 
He had no coat or vest, or — shoes, not even a hat. 
and he told me about his poor little children; all 
starving you know — what could I do? You'd have 
done the same, I'm sure. I — I had no money with 
me, so I gave him — what clothes I could spare — and 
of course my watch was in the vest — and — well — he 
seemed to need it so much more than I did — and — 
(Marie uses handkerchief. He dries up) Why, 
what are you crying about .^ Is anything wrong — 
(sees telegram — bus. trying to sneak it away — cannot 
get it and comes round to l. of table) Hello, what's 
this? (he tries to pick it up — it won't come. He con- 
ceals the fact that he cannot pick it up and sits in 
chair l. of table to read it) You're wiring your 
Mother? (reading) " Come at once — Tim passed" 
what's this? " Jim passed away this morning." Why 
— what Jim? We don't know any Jim — (she does not 
look at him, but continues with hat) My dear I wish 
vou'd answer me ! Of course I may have my faults 



POOR OLD JIM. 9 

but I think I'm entitled to an answer — What Jim 
has " passed away " and caused you to cry? 
{sharply) Marie! (^she looks through him again, 
shaking her head sorrowfully) Don't act like that; 
it — it makes me feel so queer — (she puts ribbon bow 
on hat) Oh, very well, if you want to be mad — be 
mad, I can't help it — {rises and crosses down l. 
When Paul enters c. and comes down to Marie — 
Jim sees him) Hello Paul — what are you doing here 
so early — anyone sick? 

(Paul doesn't see Jim's outstretched hand.) 
Paul, (gently) ^Nlarie 



Marie. Oh — Doctor — (7^ises and crosses to Paul 
R. c.) 

Paul. (pattinq l-er shoulder and putting her in 
chair l. of table) There, there — you must try to be 
brave ; I did everything I could to save him 

Marie. I know you did Doctor, but Oh — I was so 
fond of Jim ! 

Jim. Look here, I demand to know — who is this 
Jim? 

Paul, (in back of table) Yes — Poor Old Jim 

Jim. Say — I'm trying to be patient, but you two 
are getting on my nerves you know — if you won't 

Paul, (continuing) I warned him that he'd drink 
himself to death — and now he's done it. (crossing l. 
in front of couch) 

Marie. Yes — Poor — poor Jim 

Jim. (crossing c.) Don't keep it all to your- 
selves — I'll cry about him if you want me to — but I've 
got to know who he was. haven't I ? 

Paul. Marie — where have you put — the body? 

Jim. (turning to Paul) What's that? 
. Marie. (point to l. 1 ) In the study there. 
(choking back tears) He — he was so fond of that 



room. 



(Paul nods sympathetically.) 



10 POOR OLD JIM. 

Jim. Oh, he was, was he? {savagely — coming to- 
ward Marie) Now see here — I've got some rights 
in this house — even if I do stay out late once in a 
while — and I insist on knowing all about this — Who's 
so fond of my study that you put his dead body in 
there while I'm away? (Marie business with hand- 
kerchief — Paul standing sorrowfidly, silent) All 
right, don't answer if you don't want to; I'll see for 
myself. (Jie goes over and tries to open door l. 1 ) 
Who locked this door? 

Marie. {to Paul) Go in if you like Doctor — 
The door's not locked 

Jim. {shaking the door) It's not, eh? 

Paul. No — I'd rather remember him as I knew 
him — Poor Old Jim — {crossing l. c. to Marie) 

Jim. Say, this poor Old Jim stuff is worn out — 
Now just forget it 

Paul. He loved you, Marie- 



JiM. {crossing in front of table to r.) Well, what 
the — How in — What's tlie matter witli me, any- 
how? Can't people see me? Am I invisible? Can't 
you hear me? 

Marie. Yes — He alwavs told me that he loved 



me 

JiM. Oh, don't mind me — go right on — {sitting 
in chair r.) 

Marie. And he was a good Imsband to me 

Jim. What!! {bus.) Husband! 

Paul. Yes — -he was — Poor Old Jim 

(Jim starts to speak but can find no rvords.) 

Marie. Except when he'd been drinking 

Jim. Why they talk as if I — were- 

Marie. You know, doctor — T can't seem to realize 
that he's dead — (Jim starts) I seem to feel as if he 
were liere now — in tliis very room with us 

(Jim rises and crosses l.) 



\ 



POOR OLD JIM. 11 

Paul. (^solemnly) Who knows — Perhaps the 
Spirit of the dead do come back — {going around r. of 
table and sits in chair) 

Marie. Yes, just as the man did in the play ■ 

(Paul sighs deeply.) ^ 

Jim. {in front of couch) The play' The dead 
man's ghost came back ! {looking at and feeling him- 
self) Oh, my Lord! That telegram — {going over) 
Jim passed away this morning — The — the body is in 
there — Tliey can't see me — or hear me — I can't 
pick up a telegram, or open a door — I — I'm dead — 
I'm the Jim that died — I'm Poor Old Jim ! ! {sinks on 
settee) 

Marie. {to Paul) Will you send this wire to 
Mother when you go out? I'd like to have her here, 
now that I'm all alone. 

Paul. {bus. with pencil and paper) Yes, and I'll 
write a notice for the papers. 

Marie, {rises and goes up c. and puts hat on chair 
at door) Oh, if he'd only kept his word and given 
up drink, he'd be alive to-da}^ 

Paul. I warned him, Marie 



Jim. That's right — you did and I tliought it was 
just to scare me. But I can't be dead- — ^I don't feel 
dead — I only feel about half dead — {slaps himself 
gently in the face. Bus. rises) Oh! I'm sure I felt 
that — Marie — Paul — I'm not dead — {starting tozvard 
them) 

Paul, {to Marie) What time do you expect the 
undertaker 

(Jim stops.) 

Marie. {coming doxvn c.) Right after break- 
fast 

Jim. (c.) No — I won't have them — I don't like 
them — Oh, if I could only see my dead body — it'd 



12 POOR OLD JIM. 

make it easier to believe — (starts to door l. 1^ then 
back to them) Oh^ haven't you got the decency to 
go in and look at me — once in a while? I — I'm lonely 

two go and look at me — open the door, Marie 

in there — (going over to them) Marie — I — will you 

Marie. Doctor, did you hear anything.^ 

Paul, (rises) No 



Marie. I seemed to hear my name 

JiiM. That's right — good girl 

Paul. It's your imagination 

Jim. (to Paul) Oh, keep out of this — won't 



you? 



(Paul goes up l. to back of table.) 



Marie. I suppose you're right 

Jim. Oh, very well — don't open the door — If I'm 
any kind of a ghost I can walk right through it — 
Here goes — (he tries to swagger through the door — 
without success; he gives it up) I suppose I've got 
to learn how to do these tilings — Here, Paul — (he 
crosses to him in bach of table) Come and open 
this door — Come on — (he takes Paul's arm and tries 
to pull him across the room, but cannot move him) 

Paul. That's funny — Now I seem to feel a pres- 
ence here — I feel as if something were urging me to 
go over there? 

Jim. Sure, come on 

Paul. You know we're apt to feel this way for a 
few days, but then Jim's spirit will move on 

Jim. (backing away) Move on ! 

Paul. Into the great unknown 

Jim. (cjiving it up) Oh! I don't want to move 
on — You won't turn me out — Marie, just because 
I'm dead! (crossing l. c.) 

Paul. And what will you do, Marie? 

Marie. I don't know — Jim didn't leave me any- 
thing — (Jim goes back to couch and sits) Oh, why 
didn't he save money instead of spending it all at the 
club? 



POOR OLD JIM. 13 

Paul. (coming around r. of Marie) Marie — I 
love you — (bus. Marie looking at Doctor and he 
winking—'' it is all right ") I love you, Marie 

(Bus. Jim — then slowly rising and coming toward 
them driving next scene. ^ 

Marie. Oh, Doctor, not yet — It's too soon ! 
Paul. I have loved you ever since I met you. 
All that kept me silent was my friendship for Poor 
Old Jim. 

Jim. Oh, stop calling me " Poor Old Jim." 
Marie, {rises and comes in front of table — Paul 

close to her) Why, I never suspected 

Paul. Of course not — but now there's no reason 

why I shouldn't speak 

Jim. No reason! How about me? Haven't you 
any respect for your friend's memory? 

Paul. Couldn't you learn to care for me, Marie? 
{he puts his arm around her — Bus. both bracing them- 
selves against table) 

Jim. {seizing the arm and trying to take it away) 

Here, take vour hands off my wife 

Marie. Of course Paul, I can't give you my first 
love. 

Paul. I promise you, :Marie— I won't leave you 
alone while I go to the club— (?>m«. Jim letting go 
Paul's arm — and then falling back a little — Jim 
crosses l.) No— we'll have such nice cozy evenings 

together 

Jim. {crossing c.) Oh, no, you won't— I'm only 
a little baby ghost now— just a few hours old— but 
you wait, you wait till I learn how to haunt you— 
I'll break up some of those " cozy evenings." 

Marie. Oh, that's what Jim used to say— but he 
loved the club better than he did me. 

Jim. I didn't, Marie, I didn't— It was just- 
just 



Paul. Ah, Poor Old Jim- 



14 POOR OLD JIM. 

Jim. (fjoing up stage c.) Oh^ shut up. 

Paul. He wasn't bad — only weak 

Jim. (coming down to back of table — Paul l 
Marie r.) Oh — if I could be alive again for one 
minute. 

Paul. But you'll find it different with me. 

Jim, You bet it'll be different. I'll sit on youi 
pillow every night and give you dreams that 

Marie. Yes^ I do trust you Paul — but it's too 
soon, (crossing to l. c.) 

Jim. You bet it's too soon; haven't you r!:ot any 
shame — to be making love here — (almost teai-fully) 
while my dead body is lying neglected and forgotten 
in that room. 

Paul. (coming toward Marie) I think that if 
Jim were here, he'd be the first to tell you to accept 
my love. 

Jim. Marie, you won't let him put that over on 
you } 

Marie. If I could only ask him — Perhaps a 
spirit medium could get him to rap on the table 

Jim. That's a great idea, Marie — Listen — (raps 
on table loudly) 

Marie. Hush — listen 

Paul. What is it? 

Marie. Didn't you hear anything? 

(Jim bangs on table.) 

Paul. Not a sound. 

(Jim bangs again.') 

Marie. It seemed to me that I heard a faint tap- 
tap on the table. 

(Jim almost breaks the table.) 

Paul. By Jove, I do seem to hear something 



POOR OLD JIM. 15 

Jim. (r. of table) Ha — if I can get it through 
your head, I'm some ghost. 

Marie, (crosses to l. of table, Paul in back of 
table) Hush — it's Jim trying to talk to me. I know 
it 

Paul. Wait — we'll ask. Jim, are you here? 

Jim. {yelling) Yes — I'm here. Can't you hear 



me 



Paul, (looking at Marie) Not a sound. 

Marie. Jim, if you're here, rap on the table. 
(Jim bangs. To Paul) There it is. (looking at 
table. Bus. with fingers; looks up) If you can hear 
me, rap once for " yes " and twice for "no." Do 
you understand? (Jim raps once) There, he says 
yes. Do you want me to marry Paul? 

Jim. (raps twice) No. 

Marie. He says no. 

Paul. What do you want her to do then? 

Jim. That's none of your business. You keep 
out of it. 

Paul. He is silent, (crossing l. c.) 

Jim. You darned fool, how can I rap yes or no to 
a question like that? 

Marie, (to Jim) Jim, would you rather speak 
to me alone? (Jim raps txvice) He says no! 

Jim. No, I didn't. I said " yes," " yes." (bangs 
once) There. 

Marie. No. He says yes. 

Paul. Explain to dear old Jim that we will al- 
ways remember him with deep affection — good-bye 
dear, for a little while, (he kisses her in spite of 
Jim's efforts to prevent it and exits u. c. — Jim sits in 
chair l. of table) 

Marie, (c.) Jim, if you could live again, would 
you give up the club and stay at home with me more ? 

Jim. Yes, I would, (raps once) If only to fool 
the Doctor. 

Marie. Thank you, Jim. Of course, it's too late 
now — and I'll have to marry Paul — (Jim bangs table 



16 POOR OLD JIM. 

no — no — no) I'm forced to, Jim — (bus.) I can't 
starve — (bus.) but I'll always remember that you re- 
formed before you'd been dead two hours. 

Jim. Yes, it's so easy to reform when you're dead. 

(Paul has come down on tip-toe, behind Jim who 
doesn't see him — His coat is off and he carries 
a handkerchief in his hand. He seizes him 
from behind, claps the handkerchief over his 
nose and mouth. He quiets down almost im- 
mediately. Bus. Marie rushing to Jim's side 
frightened.) 

Paul. It's only a whiff of chloroform, Marie, it 
won't hurt him a bit. Quick, fix the clock and un- 
lock that door, (takes key from his pocket and hands 
to her. She turns clock forward two hours and opens 
door to study; Paul gets his medicine case and puts 
it on the table, turns blotter on table over and taking 
second telegram out of his pocket puts it on table) 
Here's a telegram he can pick up. (Jim begins to 
mutter) He's all right, he's coming round now. 
(Marie goes in back of table, Paul l. of Jim and 
starts to manipulate his heart. As Jim opens his 
eyes Paul says) At last, Marie, he has come back 
to life. I have performed a miracle. The heart- 
massage did it. 

Marie. Oh, Jim — Jim — (Jim sits up weakly — 
bus.) Oh, Jim, don't you know me? (Jim raps once 
on table) What are you doing that for? 

Jim. What that — (raps) Oh, nothing, nothing — 
(sees telegram. Slowly picks it up — is relieved when 
he can lift it) Why— J can lift it, can't I ? 

WARN CURTAIN 

Marie. Of course, why not? 

Jim. Oh, nothing — it seems so queer to pick up a 
telegram, that's all. 



\ 



THE FORTUNE HUNTER. 

A Charming Comedy in four acts, by AVlnchell Smith. The cast calls 
for seventeen males and three females, but by douljlinjj a number of the 
small male parts it can be played by eleven males and three females. 
Three interior and one exterior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2j 
hours. 

It Is upon the advice and capital of his friends that Nat Duncan, the 
young fortune Iwwiter, decides to embarlc upon a wife-hunting expedi- 
tion. The scheme is to go to a small town and live very auietly for one 
year. The theory upon which the pursuit is conducted is that in a 
small town there is at least one girl who has a fortune. All tlie young 
men who are worth while move away to larger cities to make their 
fortunes, but the poor girls have to remain behind, and those who are 
really above the average are forced to remain single, because they will 
not marry the riff-raff which remains, according to the theorists. This 
leaves Duncan with a clear field in anj-- town which he selects. 

Duncan's experiences prove the theory. The village banker's daugh- 
ter really falls in love with him, and in accordance with expectations, 
it is actually she who proposes before the end of the year. But there is 
no such sordid end to the tale. It has been a part of the program that 
Nat should work during his j^ear of residence in the village, lie has 
found that work is really interesting, and brings its own rewards. He 
has become a successful business man while endeavoring to win an eas.v 
fortune, and at the same time he has found the girl who can make him 
happy, and its does not happen to be the girl with the fortune. 

It is a charming, wholesome story, touched with tender humor and 
filled with quaint philosophy, with just the sort of love interest that 
makes one glad to know about, because it is both pure and sincere. 

" The Fortune Hunter" is one of the most successful comedies pro- 
duced in New York in the last decade. It had a most phenomenal run 
and is still on tour. Price, 50 cents. 

PEACEFUL VALLEY. 

A comedy in three acts, by Edward E. Kidder. 7 males. 4 females. 

This wonderful play, known all over the United States and Canada, 
had just attained its majority and is a classic of its kind. It made the 
fame of its author, Edward E. Kidder, and was largely responsible for 
the great success of the late lovable Sol Smith Russel. who created the 
part of Hosea Howe. It has been performed over five thousand times 
and is still In great demand. " Peaceful Valley " is a sweet idyl of the 
heart witli three charming love stories twined about it. and throbs with 
humanity, bubbles with fun. and thrills with pathos. The " human 
touches" that round out the history of the brave, awkward, tender- 
hearted young fellow, who waited on the table of a summer hotel to 
earn the money to send him through college, his love for his mother 
"who has the whole of "Peaceful Valley on her m1nd." his adoratioii 
for the daughter of the New York millionaire, his fla.shes of awkward 
wit. his righteous wrath against wrongdoers, all make up a complex ard 
marvelous character. Ten other quaint, hateful or lovable people are 
m the play; comic, serious, detestable, pitiable, and fine. There are 
over two hours of intense en joyment and the play is clean and uplift- 
ing. Not a character in it is unworthy of being played, and all the 
parts are good. In the shadowed stage of to-day "Peaceful Valley" 
shines out a beacon light ! 

The play particularly appeals to college men and college women. 
The characters are so simple that they are easily played by amateurs. 
Price. 50 cents. 



These plays are subject to royalty when produced. 
Our 124 Page Catalogue Sent Free on Application. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
JUST PI 

'* S T R O N ( 00g ^^3 ^.^^....,^..., 

WILLIAM C. de MILLE'S GREAT AMERICAN A;ujnj£i;x uSijAA 

irn Jfour Bets 




The story of " STRONGHEART. " is that of an Indian, named St roner- 
heart; t lie son of a chief, wlio has been sent by his tribe to Cariysle, and 
tlien to Columbia, tliat he may return and imparl the wisdom of the East. 
Strong-heart talies a tliorough course in football, and when he arrives at 
(.-'olurabia he is a crack halfback of the Morningside team. 

The first act is laid in the rooms of Frank Nelson and Dick Livingston, 
also members of the team, Thorne, of the learn, is jealous of Living.slon. 
In order to plungre the latter into debt, he has wag-erod with him gikKiO on 
the result of the approaching contest, and then plots to lose the game for 
his own eleven, by sending alist of signals lo the rival team. 

Act II is played in the teams' dressing room- Between halves the treach- 
ery is discovered. Strongheart is placed under suspicion and dismissed 
from his team. 

Victory follows, nevertheless, and thecurtain falls on a scene of rejoicing. 

The next two acts are devoted more to the love interest in the play. 
Plrongheart declares his love for Dorothy Nelson, the captain's sisler, and 
learns that while she loves him in i-elurn. the prejudice of her family and 
friends give emphatic objections lo Ihe marriage. 

Thorne is exposed as the traitor who divulged the signal.? and just a.« 
Dorothy and Strongheart have decided to marry despite family prejudices, 
a member of his tribe eniersand announces the deaili of the young man's: 
father. 

Hlack Eagle, the messenger, demands that Strongheart return, assume 
the honor of chief, and discharge his debt to the tribe for iht- education 
they have given him. 

Wavering between love and duty, Strongheart finally promises to throw 
aside his love and return to his people. 



CRITICiSMS 

HERALD-NEW YORK. 

"Strongheart" is a good, strong American play. 
PEiESS-NEW YORK. 

Than " Strongheart" no more satisfying enlcriaiiimeni has ixt'i, 
vouchsafed to us so far this year. 
EVENING SUN -NEW YORK. 

" Strongheart " has dramatic qualities which are startling and 
true. 
LIFE-NEW YORK. 

Thereis a delighlful atmosphere about ' Strongheart." 

HERALD -BOSTON. MASS. 

"Strongheart" is one of Ihe greatest American plays ever written 

"Strongheart" was played for three seasons by Robert Edeson. and for 
one season each by Ralph Stuart and Edgar Selwyn. The fact thai 
almost all the characters are college boys and girls, makes Ihe pre- 
vailing spirit of tlie play one of youlh. and renders it pailicularly 
suitable to the needs of Amateur Dramatic Clubs and Organization*. 



The Cast is 1 7 



les and 5 females. Plays a full evening. 



PRICE 50 CENTS. 



This play is suhject to royalty when produosd. 



